


Under the Chenille Blanket: Conover Street 1936

by FrostyEmma



Series: Under the Chenille Blanket [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostyEmma/pseuds/FrostyEmma
Summary: Instead Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s with something like desperation, his fingers clenching at the back of Steve’s neck and scritching into his hair. “This is stupid,” he breathed, but only pulled Steve closer against him. “This is so stupid.”


  “Not stupid.” Steve sucked in a sharp breath and arched his head back against Bucky’s fingernails. He ground himself feverishly against Bucky’s thigh, finding a little relief there but knowing that he wanted more. 

After a forbidden tryst in a school supply closet (among other places), Steve is ready to take his relationship with Bucky to the next level. So how do they go about doing that?





	

George Washington High School  
Red Hook, Brooklyn  
1936

“...which demonstrates the closure of the set of integers Z under three of the four fundamental arithmetic operations. Now when an attempt is made to demonstrate closure under division, an interesting thing occurs...”

Mr. Gallagher droned on as he always did, the bald spot on the back of his head staring out at the classroom like an unblinking eye as he wrote line after line on the blackboard without turning back to look at them. Steve struggled to keep from sighing in boredom, and a couple of others had lost the battle to stay awake. Finally, Steve gave in to temptation and slipped into a daydream.

In his daydream, he and Bucky were at home. His ma was still at the hospital, working late again to pick up that little bit of extra money, and he and Bucky knew exactly what they wanted to do to pass the time. After making sure the doors were locked and the shades were down, they’d gone right after each other’s shirt buttons and suspenders. It seemed like they couldn’t get each other’s clothes off fast enough, and in no time at all their hands were busy rubbing each other hard. Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes, arching his hips against Bucky’s stroking hand and panting as he felt himself getting closer and -

He stopped himself from sighing in frustration just before the sigh came out. He was still in school, Mr. Gallagher still droning away in the background, and Bucky was on the other side of the room with his head propped up in his hands. All he’d managed to do with his little daydream was give himself a hard-on with no means of getting rid of it.

Unless…

“Mr. Gallagher?” He raised his hand and the droning stopped as the teacher’s wrinkled and bespectacled face turned towards him. “May I go to the bathroom, please?”

A few minutes later, he was in the boys’ room down the hall, the cold water he’d splashed on his face dripping down his chin, staring at himself in the mirror and telling himself to get a grip, damn it. As tantalizing as the daydream had been, it was still only a daydream, and that was all it was ever going to be.

Bucky’d been going steady with a girl - Bonnie McGinley - for a few months, and even though they’d recently broken it off, Steve was sure Bucky wasn’t quite ready to get back to their newfound pastime yet. It had been a hard few months; Bucky hadn’t had as much time as usual to spend with him for most of it, and there certainly hadn’t been any of _that._

On the one hand, Steve felt guilty for feeling as frustrated as he did. Bucky was entitled to be happy, after all, and Steve couldn’t blame him for being happy with a pretty girl. But on the other hand, when Bucky’s time was being taken up by a girl, Steve got lonely. And Steve couldn’t lie to himself either - ever since they’d begun helping each other out in earnest, a year or so ago, it had been great to be able to get off with more than just his own hand. He and Bucky had gotten pretty good at using their hands and their mouths to bring each other off, and sometimes they could manage two or three goes in an evening if they were excited enough. Even thinking about it was starting to get Steve hard again…

_Stop it!_

He shook his head hard and glared at himself in the mirror. Was he some kind of a glutton for punishment, or what? He was going to have to stay in the bathroom all day at that rate…

The bathroom door banged open suddenly, and Steve jumped. He half-expected someone like Koblinski to show up, ready to lay into him for something or other, and he felt the dizzy onrush of adrenaline that always preceded a fight - or in his case, a beating. But it was only Bucky, and Steve felt his whole body go limp with sudden relief.

“Hey, pal.” Bucky had a packed book strap dangling from each hand. “You sick? You been gone a while.”

“Sick?” Steve sighed as the adrenaline rush faded and his heart slowed down. “No. Just - I don’t know.” He rubbed at his dripping face with a paper towel and turned towards Bucky. If it could be helped, he didn’t want to talk about the real reason he’d been in there so long. Maybe he could change the subject. “Did the bell ring?”

“It’s about to.” Bucky frowned, his eyes traveling up and down the length of Steve before settling back on his face. “Here.” He held out one of the book straps. “I brought your things.”

“Thanks.” Steve took the strap from Bucky and stood there for a moment not knowing what to say or do. He kept his eyes glued to Bucky’s shoes, and it took a massive effort to push down the sudden image of the two of them alone in his home. 

“Come on, man,” Bucky said suddenly, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder and practically dragging him out of the bathroom. “History’s next, and you wanna learn all about the War of 1812, don’t you?”

“About as much as I wanted to learn about closing integers, or whatever it was.” Steve let himself be dragged along into the hallway, those inviting images pushing for space at the front of his imagination and making it very hard. To concentrate. “Anyway, I already know about the War of 1812. You’ve seen how many history books I’ve got at home.”

“Oh yeah, you know all there is to know.” Bucky rattled Steve around a bit, a smile on his face. “All about James Madison and Andrew Jackson and Zebulous Pike.”

“Zebulon,” Steve said automatically, trying to keep his feet under him and his mind on an even keel. It wasn’t easy, especially with Bucky’s arm around his neck.

Bucky’s smile turned into a grin. “See? You could teach the class yourself. Just have to show up first.”

“I don’t want to teach the class.” He was fighting a losing battle with his imagination; he’d just caught himself wondering how much they could get up to if Bucky spent the night. His ma wouldn’t come back from the hospital until past ten, after all, and if they were quiet…

_The hell with it._

He suddenly felt tired of holding back. He’d done it for too long, and it was starting to interfere with school. Enough was enough. Looking quickly around, he saw that the hallway was deserted and that the supply closet door was slightly ajar. And just as the bell rang, he ducked out from under Bucky’s arm, grabbed him by his shirt front, and pulled them both into the closet, shutting the door behind them just as the classrooms began to empty.

“What the-?” Something thunked against the floor - probably Bucky’s strap full of books - and then Steve could feel Bucky fumbling around for a second until a light came on. And there was Bucky, glaring at Steve under a bare lightbulb, his hand still on the pull string. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I just…” Steve’s mouth was dry; he felt a bit giddy from the illicit excitement of being somewhere they technically weren’t allowed to be. And especially not for the purposes of what he was hoping to do. “I figured nobody’d find us in here.”

“Coach O’Toole sure as hell ain’t gonna find us here,” Bucky said. “What with him expecting us in his damn class and all.”

Steve wasted a second on giving Bucky a particularly withering glare, then threw caution to the wind and reached out with both hands to grab Bucky’s shirt front and drag him down. Bucky staggered and his hand shot out to brace himself on the shelf behind Steve. And then Steve stood on his tiptoes and looked up, took a deep breath, and planted a kiss right on Bucky’s mouth.

It was electric. It was amazing. And it dawned on Steve as he closed his eyes and pushed into it that it was the first time they’d ever done it.

And Bucky didn’t pull away either. His one hand stayed braced against the shelf, but his other hand skated up the length of Steve’s spine before settling at the back of Steve’s neck. He nudged Steve a little closer, until their bodies were against each other, and-

Bucky must have come to his senses suddenly, because he pulled away so quickly, his head knocked into the shelf behind him. “Are you... “ he panted. Bit his lip and closed his eyes before trying again. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? Anyone could open this door. Anyone could-”

“No one ever comes in here, Buck.” Steve looked up at him breathlessly. “There’s dust on the shelves, for Christ’s sake. And there’s enough noise out in the hallway that no one’ll hear anything we do in here.” He leaned forward and kissed Bucky again, his hand clutching a fistful of Bucky’s shirt and his pants beginning to get uncomfortably tight.

Bucky gave in, his body melting against Steve’s. He leaned back against the shelf, pulling Steve with him, his hand tightening at the back of Steve’s neck. His other hand found Steve’s lower back, and he managed to pull him in that much closer, until they were pressed bodily against each other.

Steve wrapped both arms around Bucky, kissing him hungrily and pressing the length of their bodies together. He ground his hips against the front of Bucky’s thigh, the wiry muscle firm against his hardness, while Bucky’s own stiffness was obvious against his stomach. And the kiss was making the both of them even harder.

“We have a class to go to,” Bucky murmured around Steve’s mouth, and Steve rolled his eyes, causing Bucky to pull back and scowl. “Don’t you make that face at me, pal. It’s true.”

“And we’ve never once been late to class before, right?” Steve rocked his hips against Bucky’s thigh again, his fingers coming around to brush against the front of Bucky’s pants. “Come on, Buck, we’ll be fine.”

Bucky tried - and failed - to stifle a moan. “We’re not fine. We’re idiots.” And yet, he didn’t push Steve away.

“Maybe you are.” Steve scrabbled at the buttons on the front of Bucky’s pants, unbuttoning them clumsily but quickly. He pulled back from the kiss, a bit breathless, and looked Bucky in the eyes as he reached into Bucky’s open fly and unhesitatingly wrapped his hand around Bucky’s already-hard cock. “Why else would anybody try to get out of a quick go-round in a closet between classes?”

“Maybe because-” But whatever else Bucky meant to say spun away into a gasp as Steve’s fingers made contact. He looked down at Steve with wide, needy eyes and opened his mouth as if he were about to protest. 

Maybe.

Instead he pressed his lips against Steve’s with something like desperation, his fingers clenching at the back of Steve’s neck and scritching into his hair. “This is stupid,” he breathed, but only pulled Steve closer against him. “This is so stupid.”

“Not stupid.” Steve sucked in a sharp breath and arched his head back against Bucky’s fingernails. He ground himself feverishly against Bucky’s thigh, finding a little relief there but knowing that he wanted more. Feeling Bucky’s cock pulse in his stroking hand, he pushed hungrily into the kiss and let his imagination suggest things to him. Things like how nice it would be to drop down to his knees and take Bucky in his mouth, and savor every taste Bucky had to give him.

“Not stupid,” he gasped again and ran his thumb over the head of Bucky’s swollen cock. It came away slippery. “Desperate, maybe.”

Bucky shuddered and something strangled and incoherent slipped out of his mouth. “We…” he started to say, but words once again seemed to get away from him, and Steve took that as his cue to act out what he’d just imagined doing. He dropped into a crouch, and without any hesitation at all opened his mouth and took Bucky eagerly in. He went to work with his lips, his tongue, the whole inside of his mouth, and it all felt so natural. So natural, and so right.

The thought of it was exciting in a way he didn’t have words for. There they were, hiding out in a supply closet in school, and he had Bucky’s cock in his mouth. Bucky’s fingers clenched desperately at the back of Steve’s head and his face was contorted in quiet pleasure. All that separated them from anyone else was a two-inch-thick door, and anyone could walk in at any time, and somehow the thrill of that made it even better. His own cock throbbed achingly in his pants, and as he savored the taste of Bucky’s saltiness on his tongue, he wondered about what else they might do before heading back into the real world.

Too soon after that, Bucky rattled apart with a moan he only just stifled with his own hand. Hot, thick spurts of jism jetted out into Steve’s mouth, over his tongue, and he sucked and swallowed eagerly until there was no more. And then, gasping for breath and smiling in triumph, he sat back on his heels and looked up at Bucky, who was leaning back against the shelves and taking shaky breaths. 

“We don’t have to go back yet, do we?”

“Oh my God, Steve.” Bucky looked down at him, chest heaving. He pushed a trembling hand through Steve’s hair. “You… I don’t… I don’t have words for you.”

“That’s all right, Buck.” Steve leaned into Bucky’s stroking hand, his eyes half-closing from the pleasure of it. “I’ve got words enough for the both of us.” He stood, looking up into Bucky’s eyes as he brought up his own hand to cup the back of Bucky’s neck, and pressed himself back against Bucky’s body. The stiffness in his pants hadn’t gone away at all, and he thought wickedly about what he might do about it. “Words like ‘fire escape’ and ‘kitchen’, and now ‘school supply closet’.”

Bucky smiled a wobbly sort of smile, took a moment to tuck himself back in, and leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I found some words,” he whispered. “Words like ‘late’ and ‘class’ and ‘detention.’ How do you like those words?”

“I don’t like those words at all.” Steve all but pouted. “Those are the worst words in the world right now. I think I liked it better when you didn’t have any words.” 

Bucky’s smile lingered, and after a moment, he brought his hands up to gently cup Steve’s face. “How about this then?” he murmured, then trailed a line of kisses from Steve’s forehead to the tip of his nose before landing softly on his lips. “We’ll have to come back to this tonight.”

“Yeah.” Steve returned the kiss, leaning into Bucky’s touch and smiling warmly. It occurred to him, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was the first time they’d kissed. They’d done pretty much everything else with each other, but for whatever reason, they’d never kissed until then. And now that Steve realized it, he promised himself that they’d do it a lot more often from then on.

As if reading his mind, Bucky said, “Why’d we wait so long to do this, Stevie?” His hand drifted from Steve’s cheek to the back of his head, fingers scrabbling into tufts of hair.

“You’ve got me.” Steve brought his own hand up to rest on the back of Bucky’s neck, scratching lightly with his fingernails and smiling up at his best friend. “I think we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, though.”

They wound up being very late to class. And for the rest of the school day, Steve was distracted by thoughts of not only what they’d done in the supply closet, but everything they could do once the school day was over. After all, they’d have the apartment to themselves until after ten that night… 

\---

The answer to Bucky’s question came a few weeks later, in the form of Minnie Fitzpatrick.

He was working a double shift at Mr. Cicalese’s drugstore on a slushy, grey Saturday afternoon, trying not to eat all the blueberry pie behind the counter at the soda fountain, when in walked Minnie Fitzpatrick.

She had pinned up her wavy blonde hair in a way that framed her face, and her tight, red sweater framed… other things. She hopped up on a stool at the counter, smiled a bright smile, and leaned ever-so-slightly forward, the lines of her sweater drawing Bucky’s eyes irresistibly downward.

“Hi Bucky.”

His eyes snapped back up to meet hers. “Hi there.” Hastily he shoved the dish containing a half-eaten slice of blueberry pie under the counter and smiled. “What can I get for you?”

“I’d like a strawberry soda, thanks.” Her voice was as bright as her smile, and all of it together made her eyes seem to sparkle. “With one scoop of vanilla, please.”

That had been the most interesting request Bucky had gotten all day, because who the hell wanted to go out to the drugstore on a cold day in late February?

It only took a moment to put the soda together, and when he slid it over the counter to her, he couldn’t help himself. He winked at her.

“Gave you a scoop and a half,” he said, leaning back against the service counter behind him. “For coming out here in this weather.”

She smiled at him radiantly and dipped her spoon into the ice cream soda. If it was possible to dip a spoon sassily, she did it.

“Speaking of the weather,” she said after she’d taken a sip of the soda through her straw, “when it warms up again, are you going to run track?”

“Yeah, probably.” He folded his arms, shrugged. “It’s my last year.”

He decided not to mention that he had almost quit track back in the fall. After all, it was his last year in school, and he could make better money working at Mr. Cicalese’s full-time. Lord knew his ma needed the cash, but she hadn’t liked the idea of Bucky quitting anything. Not school, not track, not for nothing. And so track it was.

“Might as well go out with a bang.” He smiled. “Right?”

“Right.” She smiled back at him, lighting up the whole lunch counter area. “I saw you run a couple of times in the fall. You were really good.”

“Well.” He looked down for a moment, but her smile was contagious, and when he looked back up, he was grinning like the idiot he knew he was. “Thank you much.”

“You’re sweet,” she said with another hundred-watt smile. “Anyway, I thought if you were going to run again, I’d make plans to come watch you more often.” She took another sip of her soda, her perfect lips making a perfect O around the straw. “You’ve probably got a big cheering section already, but I don’t mind.”

It took him a moment to pull his eyes away from her mouth. “It’s not that big,” he said easily. “And you would certainly brighten the whole section.”

“All right then.” She smiled at him as she scooped up another spoonful of ice cream and brought it to her mouth. “I’ll be there.”

They talked for a little bit longer. Okay, about twenty minutes longer, but Mr. Cicalese was busy in the back and no customers had come in, so who was counting? Besides, by the end of it, Bucky had a date for Sunday afternoon.

“So Minnie.” He couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “You don’t happen to have a friend, do you?”

“A friend?” The smile faded from her face for the first time since she’d walked in, replaced by a momentary look of confusion. Then the smile came back, filled with understanding. “Oh, you mean so we can go double with your friend Steve?” She smiled good-naturedly. “Yeah, I think I can find somebody.”

“Perfect.” Not too long after, he watched appreciatively as she strolled out of the store. 

Everything was coming up roses, if he did say so himself.

He was still smiling like a fool when Steve came into the drugstore at the end of the shift. They were supposed to go to the automat, or maybe Steve was coming to his house for dinner. One or the other, and suddenly Bucky couldn’t remember which, but it didn’t matter. Either was good, and he had better news.

“Hey Stevie.” He was leaning against the back counter, finishing off the last of the blueberry pie. “Nothing on the docket for tomorrow, right?”

“Not that I know of.” Steve took a seat across from him and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Why, have you got any great ideas?” He smiled mischievously.

“I got a couple.” Bucky set the plate aside. “And one of them involves that new Shirley Temple picture, a gorgeous dame, and her doll of a friend.”

“Oh.” Steve’s face fell, but he made a real effort to pull himself together again a second later. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at Steve’s expression, but he slapped a smile on his face and plowed forward. “Oh, come on. Give it a chance.”

Steve hesitated a moment, then sighed. “I’ll give it a chance, Buck, like I always do. But you and I both know she’s not going to like me.” 

Bucky stifled a sigh, picked up the plate, and hastily finished off the last few bites of pie. “Just give me a second, will you?”

It only took him a few minutes to wash the plate, store his apron in the back of the store, and say goodnight to Mr. Cicalese, and then he was back up front and Steve was still sitting at the lunch counter with a glum expression on his face.

Bucky faltered for a moment, but managed to smile before Steve looked up. “Anyway, we both don’t know that. You haven’t even met her yet.”

Steve got up from his seat at the counter. Stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, the glum expression on his face never changing. “None of the girls we’ve gone out with have so far.” He shook his head. “It’s the same show every single time. The girls love you, they can’t get enough of you, but I’m just not what they’re looking for. So why is this time going to be any different?”

A frown twitched at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “Because you haven’t met every single girl in Brooklyn yet. A few lousy dates don’t mean anything.”

Steve blew out a sigh and followed Bucky as he walked out the door. “Buck, I just don’t have what girls are looking for.” He scuffed his shoe absently at a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. “I’m not tall or handsome or good at sports. I’m just a scrawny asthmatic who shows up with a black eye or a fat lip every couple of weeks. What’s there to like about that?”

Bucky just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. How many times had they gotten into the same, stupid conversation? Too many to count, but something far past sane or reasonable. Well, he wasn’t going to let them get sucked into it again.

“You’re more than your asthma or your black eyes, Steve.”

He’d make Steve see reason if he had to shake it out of the little twerp.

“You just need the right girl to see past all that.” He glanced at him. “Where we going, by the way?”

“I thought we were going back to your place for dinner.” Steve looked back over at him. “Why, did something else come up?”

Bucky shook his head, smiled. “No. Just slipped my mind.” He hesitated a moment, then put his arm around Steve and pulled him closer as they walked. “C’mon. I’m sure Becca’s making something good.”

\---

Steve sat in the picturehouse, slouched in his seat next to his date - a pretty girl named Molly who had swell curly hair and nice eyes, but who’d shown absolutely no interest in him - watching Shirley Temple sing and dance her way around a lighthouse. 

The picture was all right, he supposed, though he’d preferred the Three Stooges serial ‘Ants in the Pantry’ that had played before _Captain January_ had started. He’d seen a bunch of other Shirley Temple pictures, and after a while they all began to run together. There were only so many different excuses that could be made for a little girl to sing and dance, after all. But the real problem with the picture was that it couldn’t distract him from the telltale sounds of Bucky and his date Minnie necking in the seats next to him.

It was all starting to feel tiresome for him. Having to pretend that there was any hope of his dates ever actually liking him, having to suffer through a few hours of awkwardness while everything went perfectly for Bucky. And lately, the feeling of rejection when Bucky’s steady girl got more of Bucky’s time and attention than Steve did.

Of course, every time that feeling showed up, it was followed very quickly by a flood of guilt. After all, his conscience kept admonishing him, what kind of a friend was he if his reaction to Bucky’s good luck in finding a girl was jealousy instead of happiness?

He didn’t have an answer for that. And it didn’t stop the feelings from creeping in, either.

After the picture ended, the four of them ended up at the H&H. Bucky and Minnie sat next to each other, feeding one another bites of pie and laughing and generally having the good time that Bucky had probably hoped Steve and his own date would have. Except that Steve had been right about Molly not caring for his company; she hadn’t said more than a few words to him all evening, and he hadn’t been able to ingratiate himself to her either. So, while Bucky and Minnie’s side of the table was lively and animated, Steve and Molly’s side was quiet and terribly awkward. Enough so that Steve breathed a sigh of relief and felt the tension leave his shoulders and stomach when they finally walked the girls home.

“Another successful night,” he said as he jostled Bucky with his shoulder and tried to dredge up a smile. “Looks like Minnie really likes you.”

Bucky smiled dopily, and Steve felt that jealous twinge again. “Yeah, she’s a real doll.” He nudged Steve in the side. “And what’d you think of Molly?”

“Pretty.” Steve sighed. “And as far from interested in me as it’s possible to be.” He shook his head, looking down at the ground. The whole game was starting to get tiresome. “It’s like I keep trying to tell you, Buck, girls just aren’t interested in a guy like me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Bucky said without hesitation. “You just haven’t met the right one yet.”

“You always say that.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and stared hard down at the pavement. “How many times has it been now? And how many more times is the same thing going to have to happen?” He blew out a hard, heavy sigh. “I got the point years ago, Buck. Why don’t you?”

“Because,” Bucky’s tone didn’t waver, “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you don’t have to live with it.”

Steve hated how bitter he was starting to sound, but he wasn’t having much success holding it back. He was tired of having to make a show of going on a double date that everyone knew wouldn’t work out - well, everyone but Bucky, apparently. But more than that, he was tired of having Bucky’s girlfriends cut in front of him for Bucky’s time, attention, and affection. It was more than just the physical things they did, even though those did feel awfully good. No, it was about someone else coming between him and his best friend, when they’d gotten to be so much more than best friends lately. And about it happening more than once over the past year.

“I’ve got to live with it, Buck. And I don’t get to pretend it’s not the way it is.”

Bucky’s smile slipped a little. “Come on, Stevie.” He looked around, throwing glances up and down the block, as if he wanted to be anywhere else right then. “It’s not always going to be like that. You don’t like Molly? I’m sure Minnie has other friends, see? We can-”

“I don’t want another night out with a girl who’s only putting up with me because of her friend.” Steve was beginning to sound as upset as he felt. “I’m so tired of being the one the girls are only nice to when they’re in front of you. None of them would ever even answer me if I said hello to them in school or on the street.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t want to pretend anymore, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, then he dredged a smile up from somewhere and stuck it on his face. “Well, if you’d actually _say_ hello to them, that might change things.”

“They’re not interested in me, Bucky!” Steve stopped in his tracks and looked Bucky in the eyes with an expression somewhere between a glare and a sob. “And you know what? I’m not interested in pretending they’re going to be someday.”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. “I don’t even want them. I want you.”

Bucky went very still for what felt like far too long. The only sign of movement was the gentle rise and fall of his chest under his thick winter coat and the soft clouds of his breath on the frigid air.

Finally, haltingly, Bucky said, “You can have… I mean… we’re friends… and girls are… they’re…” He looked at Steve with a wide eyed expression that was somewhere between shock and panic. “It’ll… it’ll all work out, see? It’ll work out.”

“Yeah.” Steve couldn’t hold Bucky’s eyes any longer; the look in them was just too painful. He hung his head, his shoulders sagging, and toed the ground sullenly. “I guess it will, one way or the other. After all, it’s working out just fine for you.”

“Yeah.” Bucky backed up a step, but he did put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Look, I told my ma… I have to… I need… I’ll see you in school tomorrow, okay?”

Together they made the very awkward, very silent walk home. They parted ways near Bucky’s block, and Steve felt close to tears as he walked back to his place alone. 

If things had worked out the way he’d wanted them to, he thought miserably as he trudged along, he and Bucky would have spent the afternoon at the pictures together. Just the pair of them, without the girls, without any need to pretend Molly would like Steve. They would have had fun, they would have enjoyed the picture, and they would have gone home together afterwards and spent the rest of the evening making each other feel good. It would have been a good night.

But instead, it had worked out like this.

The following morning, Bucky didn’t come over for breakfast. Steve walked to school alone, and Bucky never came to classes that day. Steve spent the day distracted, alternating between worrying about Bucky and being angry at himself for the frustrated jealousy that kept welling up. And finally, after being written up by his last two teachers of the day for his lack of concentration, he made a beeline for Bucky’s place as soon as school let out.

He caught up to Bucky’s younger sister, Becca, right as she was letting herself in through the front door. “He’s not feeling well,” she said without preamble. “He was in still in bed when I left for school.”

Steve let himself into Bucky’s room without knocking. He knew Bucky well enough by now to have a pretty good idea about what he’d find, and he wasn’t wrong. Bucky was huddled under a pile of chenille blankets, every part of him hidden, and he wasn’t sick. He was hiding.

“Bucky?” Steve sat down on the edge of the bed and poked at a likely spot. “I was worried about you.”

Bucky’s reply was a long time coming and the words were muffled, but Steve could still make out something like, “Not feeling well. Go home.”

“Aw, come on, Buck. You know I know better than that.” Steve pulled back a corner of the blanket near to the pillow, but all he found was Bucky’s foot. “I wanted to see you. See how you were doing. Come out of there, huh?”

“Doing fine,” Bucky said through a wad of blanket. “Go home.”

“Bull,” Steve said succinctly, and began poking at the blankets. Bucky squirmed underneath, but didn’t come out. “I’m not going home, Buck, we need to talk. I feel bad about leaving it the way we did last night, and-” He stopped short, suddenly realizing how stupid this would look to anyone who walked in. “Bucky, I don’t want to talk to a pile of blankets. Come on out, will you?”

After a very long moment, in which Steve almost flipped the blankets back himself, Bucky pulled enough of the blankets down to reveal a sullen expression underneath a shock of messy hair.

“Fine.” He didn’t look at Steve, instead keeping his gaze focused listlessly on the wall next to his bed. “I’m out.”

“Good.” Steve had a moment of near-panic when he realized that he hadn’t actually thought of anything to say. He’d imagined that getting Bucky out from under the blanket would take longer than it had, and now he had to say something fast before he lost momentum. “I missed you this morning.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Steve sighed. “Aw, come on, Buck. You don’t have to lie to me.” He shifted slightly so he could look at Bucky’s face a bit more clearly. “I probably would’ve stayed home too, except my ma would’ve seen right through me if I’d tried to play sick.”

“Not playing.” Bucky still wouldn’t look at him. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Bucky, knock it off.” Steve’s patience was starting to wear thin. “I know you weren’t sick this morning, and I know you’re not sick now. I’m not buying it.”

Bucky seemed to curl in on himself, drawing the blankets tightly around his body and staring very hard at the wall. And he looked so miserable that Steve immediately felt sorry for having pushed him.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” He shifted closer to Bucky on the bed and reached out a hand to smooth the tangled mess of hair away from Bucky’s face. Bucky leaned into his touch, and Steve felt a little better. “I was just worried about you. Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”

“The truth?” Bucky said the words so quietly, Steve had to strain to hear him. “The truth is, I like Minnie… and… and I…” He swallowed. Squeezed his eyes shut. “I like... “ He shook his head and went back to staring very hard at the wall. “I don’t know.”

“I know you like Minnie.” Steve hated the little stab of jealousy that accompanied the mention of Bucky’s feelings for Minnie. And it certainly didn’t make things any easier to say. “I just…” He sighed explosively. “I just wish it could be you and me for a while.”

“It’s always you and me, Stevie.” Bucky barely managed to whisper the words. “Always has been. This is… I…” He licked his lips. “It’s always been that way.”

“Then why do your girlfriends get more time with you than I do?” Steve’s heart felt heavy in his chest, and every word made it ache. But he couldn’t hold the words back anymore. “Why is it that we can do these things we do, and then just stop every time you find a girl?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “What… what do you mean?”

Steve hesitated a moment, feeling his eyes grow prickly and hot and hating it, but things had already gone too far to stop. There were things that needed to be said.

“You always seem so happy with me, and then you go out looking for a girl and we just stop for months at a time.” Steve blinked furiously, trying to hold his voice in check and stop himself from falling apart, but he knew it was only a matter of time. “Why?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, but other than that, he froze for a painfully long moment. And then in a sudden burst of energy, he sat up, the chenille blankets tumbling away and revealing that he hadn’t even bothered to get dressed that morning. He stared at Steve, a mess of tousled hair and sweaty undershirt and slightly trembling hands.

“You said…” His chest rose and fell too quickly. “You said we were just… helping each other out. That’s all it was. Just helping each other out.”

That did it. Steve looked his best friend in the eyes and felt the last little bit of his composure crumble. The tears slid down his cheeks, and he felt himself lose control of the whole lower half of his face. 

“Oh no.” Bucky’s face crumpled and he reached out for Steve. “No, please, no.”

Steve jerked away abruptly from Bucky’s touch, and Bucky’s eyes widened at that, but he dropped his hands. Steve’s lip was quivering, and his mouth was working, and he didn’t know how he managed to get the words out, but he did.

“That’s how it was in the beginning, but…” He made one last-ditch attempt to hold it together, but to no avail. “But not for a while. Not for me.”

“Stevie, c’mon,” Bucky said in a small, terrified voice. He glanced at the door, as if hoping his sister or mother or anybody else in the world would walk in right then. But it was just the two of them, and he looked back at Steve, miserable confusion clear across his face. “Please… don’t…”

“I swear, Buck, that was the way it started. Just helping each other out.” The sound of Bucky’s desperate fear pushed Steve further over the edge. “But it hasn’t felt that way to me for a long time. I don’t know what to call it-” he choked back a sob “-and I know you don’t feel the same way, but…”

“There’s… there’s nothing to call it.” Bucky’s voice shook with ragged fear and panic. “It’s just… there’s… there’s nothing…” He shook his head, his breath hitching in his throat and his hands clutching madly at the blankets. “There’s nothing…”

“Nothing?” Steve wiped a hand across his eyes once, twice, but they wouldn’t clear. Everything was falling apart, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. All he could do was just follow it over the edge of the cliff and hope he survived the fall. “What do you mean, there’s nothing? You think what we’ve been doing on and off for the past year is nothing?”

“We’re not… we’re not like that.” Bucky’s lower lip trembled and his hands gripped the blankets so tightly, his knuckles had gone white. “We’re not like that. We like girls, the both of us. We always have. We’re not like that.”

“What does liking girls have to do with it?” Steve felt his chest tightening, felt the familiar sensations of his asthma reminding him it was there, but he couldn’t calm down. “Yeah, we like girls - so what? I don’t like any girl enough that I’d ever pick her over you!”

“It’s not normal!” Bucky shouted the words, his voice ragged and ugly and terrified. His whole body went rigid with shock and he stared at Steve with wide, horrified eyes. He opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. And Steve felt his heart break in that instant.

“Fine.” His voice was a dry whisper as he stood up from the bed and groped his way towards the door. He couldn’t see past the tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to wipe them away. All he could think of was getting out of there, of crawling into his own bed and not coming out.

All he wanted to do now was go home.

\---

All Bucky could do was watch Steve go.

He wanted to reach out and grab him. He wanted to ask him to stay, to talk things over and work things out somehow. Just like they always did.

Instead, he just watched in silent, stupid horror as Steve walked out the door, and then Bucky crumpled onto the mattress and groped for the blankets. His hands trembled so violently, he could barely manage to pull the blankets up. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried very hard not to be sick in bed.

“Hey.” Becca was standing by the bed suddenly. He hadn’t even heard her come in. “Steve’s not staying for dinner?”

“No.” Bucky’s teeth chattered. He breathed hard through his nose. “Go away.”

Becca narrowed her eyes and looked at him for a long moment. “You really are sick, aren’t you?”

He almost told her to fuck off, but caught himself in time. “Beat it. Now.” His stomach twisted savagely. He curled in on himself and dragged the blankets over his head. In muffled darkness, he heard Becca shut the door.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Bucky staggered to the kitchen sink and vomited until he had nothing left inside of him. Or so he thought, until he did it again early the next morning and kept going until he was gagging on stomach acid.

He stumbled back to bed and swung in and out of semi-consciousness for who knew how long, and suddenly his ma was sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on his forehead. Through bleary eyes he could see that she was dressed for her secretary job at the sugar factory, which meant he was already supposed to be leaving for school. 

“You really are sick,” she murmured. And then she kept talking, but he only half-remembered what she said. Something about staying home and resting and corned beef in the ice box, and he passed the morning and most of the afternoon drifting in and out of miserable, heartbroken, restless sleep.

In the late afternoon, he stumbled into the kitchen and ate half the corned beef and several pieces of bread. Then he dragged the board off the tub, filled it, and sat in cold bathwater for a long time.

When Steve failed to appear after school or for dinner, Bucky tucked himself back into bed and stayed there until morning.

The next morning, Bucky got out of bed and got ready for school, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to Steve’s house for breakfast. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact during any of their classes or to wait for Steve in the hallway or to find him during lunch, and when he passed the supply closet, his stomach twisted into a putrid, awful knot. 

He was being the worst kind of coward, and he hated himself for it.

“Hey, Bucky.” Minnie found him at the end of the school day. “Your sister told me you were sick.” She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t look much better.”

“I…” Bucky stared at her. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what?” Minnie raised an eyebrow. “Talk to me?”

“I can’t…” Bucky closed his eyes. Licked his lips. “I can’t do any of this right now.”

“Okay,” Minnie said slowly and backed up a step. She looked at him for a moment, then, “Did I… did I do something?”

He was going to be sick all over again.

“No,” he said quickly. Miserably. “You’re a doll. It’s me. I can’t… I… Not right now...”

Somehow he ended the conversation. He couldn’t remember how, and at that moment, he didn’t care. He walked home very quickly, ended up taking a detour to Mr. Cicalese’s store to buy himself a bottle of Coke. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, he bought two bottles.

Somehow, he ended up at Frannie McDowell’s door. 

“Well, hi there,” she began with a cheery smile, but the look on her face quickly turned to one of concern when she saw his face. “Honey, you look awful. You’d better come inside.” She reached out a hand, latched onto his arm, and gently guided him inside and onto the loveseat. 

She took the bottles of Coke from him, and Bucky had a moment to reflect that he had never seen Frannie in anything but some sort of silky, Oriental-style robe when they were inside her apartment. It was no different that day; her robe was a deep emerald green that brought out the red of her hair, and patterned in ornate, black and white birds that Bucky couldn’t identify. 

He found the familiarity oddly comforting.

“So.” She set the Cokes aside on the end table and sat down on the loveseat next to him. “Jerry’s away again, and I was just thinking of putting in an order to Mr. Cicalese.” 

Bucky glanced at her. “We haven’t done that in a while.” A few months, at least. He couldn’t seem to muster the proper enthusiasm to care right then.

“I know.” She raised an eyebrow. “So maybe you’d better tell me what’s bothering you, so we can get back to where we both want to be.”

“I don’t know where I want to be.” Bucky closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. “I think I have a girlfriend. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Frannie shifted closer to him on the loveseat. “It sounds like there’s some kind of a story there.” She undid the buttons on his coat and gently helped him out of it. “Tell me about it.”

“Her name is Minnie.” He shrugged out of the coat and went back to holding his face in his hands. “We went on a date a few days ago. I think I just ended things with her.”

“You think you did?” Frannie set the coat aside and laid a hand on Bucky’s back, right between his shoulderblades. Slowly, she started to rub his back. “Why? What did you do?”

Bucky made a sound that was somewhere between a mirthless bark of laughter and a snort. “Well, there’s a whole goddamn story.”

“I’ve got time.” Frannie crossed her legs and started using her fingernails on his back. “And it looks like you do too. So tell me.”

For a long moment, Bucky just sat there, head in hands, as Frannie ran her fingernails over his back. And it felt good - really good - but he couldn’t let himself get caught up in that, no matter how comforting or familiar. 

“I like girls.” He rubbed his eyes, pushed his hands through his hair before settling his arms on his thighs. “Always have. I like you a lot.” He glanced at her. “You’ve been very good to me.”

“Well.” Frannie smiled at him. “You’ve been good to me too.”

She looked at him for a long moment, a look that seemed like it was looking right through him, and then smiled a different kind of smile. A knowing smile. 

“A guy can like girls all his life and then find out one day that girls aren’t all he likes.” She kept scratching his back. “It’s not impossible. I’ve seen it.”

He didn’t look at her. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not that hard to put together,” she said with a shrug. “You come to my door looking like hell, you tell me you’ve maybe got a girlfriend but maybe you just ended it with her, you tell me apropos of nothing that you like girls, and I know all about you and your friend Steve.” She stopped scratching and just kept a comforting hand on his back. “So maybe you should tell me what’s eating you.”

Bucky sighed. “You don’t…” He licked his lips. “You don’t know _all_ about me and him.” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he suspected she probably knew a whole helluva lot. How she knew, he couldn’t say, but if anyone were going to know, it’d be Frannie McDowell. And she hadn’t recoiled in disgust or called him a pervert or said anything awful about Steve, so…

He couldn’t say why he did it, but he slid out of the loveseat until he was sitting on the floor and then he put his head in her lap.

“I know the two of you are a lot closer than I’ve ever seen two boys your age get.” Frannie’s fingers began to work their way gently into his hair, scratching at his scalp and winding into his curls. “I know that what you got up to on the fire escape that night wasn’t the end of things. And I know that a boy doesn’t have to say he likes girls unless he’s trying to prove it.”

“But I do like girls.” He whispered the words, his head comfortable in her lap and her fingernails against his scalp lulling him into relaxation. “I really do. And so I don’t… I don’t…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Frannie sighed and went to work on his hair with both hands. “But then again, nobody really talks about this sort of thing, do they?” Another sigh, this time one that sounded frustrated. “Listen, Bucky, I know you like girls.” A smile came into her voice. “And I know you like your friend too. So what’s not to understand? Why shouldn’t it be possible for you to like both, and not have to choose one over the other?”

Bucky tried and failed to lift his head off Frannie’s lap. He wanted to make eye contact with her while having what felt like one of the most important conversations of his life, but he couldn’t seem to overcome the comfort she was so freely giving him. And so he stayed right where he was.

“How is that possible?” He turned the question over in his head and asked the next question slowly. “How can a guy like both? I’m no… I’m no pansy.”

He frowned. The word felt ugly and mean on his tongue, and he didn’t like it at all. What if Steve was a pansy? Then what? Bucky didn’t think it would change much about him. 

Would it?

What if someone _called_ Steve a pansy? As a way to try to hurt him?

Then Bucky would lay the asshole out, no question there.

He chewed on his lip and chose his next words carefully. “I don’t think I’m… a homosexual. But how can a guy like both? How does… I’ve never heard of that.”

“I have.” Frannie tossed this revelation off carelessly, as she continued to stroke his hair and cradle his head in her lap. “Jerry’s like that too. It’s not as uncommon as you think.”

“Jerry?” At that revelation, Bucky did raise his head and look at Frannie in stupid shock. “But he’s… he’s so…”

“So big and manly?” Frannie smiled at him, laughing gently. “Well, yes. But did you really think the one thing had anything to do with the other?”

Bucky stared at her. “Well, not when you put it that way.” He settled his head back into her lap. “How did it happen to him?”

“Happen?” Frannie worked her fingers back into his hair. “It didn’t really happen all of a sudden. The way he explained it to me, because I asked him almost the same question once...” She smiled down at him. “He said he’d felt that way for a while, but he hadn’t had the chance to act on it until he went sailing for the first time.” She chuckled. “Apparently, sailors know where to go for all the jazz. He met another sailor in South America somewhere, and that was the first time he actually laid up with another guy.”

“But he still comes home to you,” Bucky murmured.

“And I don’t entertain anybody else while he’s home.” She leaned forward a bit, curling herself around his head. “It’s an arrangement that works for both of us. We do love each other, you know.”

He closed his eyes against the feel of her soft breasts and her comforting touch. “I love him,” he whispered. He caught his breath. Waited.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. And then Frannie bent her head to his ear.

“I know,” she said softly. “It’s pretty obvious to see.”

Was it?

Maybe?

Well then… what the hell was he doing there? 

“I need to go.” He pushed himself onto his feet and grabbed his coat. “Thanks, Frannie,” he said over his shoulder, and then he was out the door and down the steps before he could talk himself out of anything.

He walked quickly to Steve’s block, his stomach twisting strangely the whole way and his head filled with too many thoughts to sort out properly. Well, maybe Steve could help him with that part.

Maybe. 

Too much to think about.

He bounded up the steps at the back of Steve’s building, went straight to the door, and knocked. It was Wednesday, so Steve’s ma would be doing the overnight shift at the hospital, which meant Steve either wasn’t home or the little punk was choosing not to answer.

Before Bucky could convince himself into going home or back to Frannie’s, he kicked the stupid, obvious brick aside, picked up the spare key, and let himself into the apartment. 

\---

The world outside Steve’s window was cold and gray and slushy - the kind of world nobody would want to be out in. The kind of world that perfectly mirrored the one in Steve’s head. 

Steve sat there on his bed, his sketch pad open on his lap and filled with a drawing of oddly distorted shapes in a bleak winter landscape. Not anything he’d ever finish or frame, but somehow cathartic. The sketch looked as depressing as the view from his window, but not even close to the view from his mind. 

It had been two days since he’d tried to talk to Bucky. Two days since Bucky had told him that what they’d been doing wasn’t normal. He’d gone home and sunk into his bed, curling in on himself miserably, and he hadn’t had the stomach to talk to Bucky since. Bucky could have all the fun he wanted to with Minnie now, without ever needing to worry about him and his inability to hold a girl’s interest ever again. All he ever did was hold Bucky back, anyway. Bucky was better off without him…

“Hey Steve?”

Steve jumped at the sound of Bucky’s voice. He hadn’t heard the door open; he’d been too wrapped up in his drawing and his brooding. And now, he didn’t know how to deal with Bucky being there. Maybe he could just stay quiet? Hide?

“I know you’re in here.”

Well, so much for that. Bucky’s voice was getting closer, and Steve felt a strange kind of fear clench at him. After what had happened, what would they have to say to each other? 

“Hey.” Bucky was in the doorway suddenly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. For a long moment, he stood there silently. Steve wasn’t about to offer any help, after all. 

Finally Bucky said, “You, uh… you never showed up for dinner yesterday.”

“Didn’t seem like I needed to.” Steve hunched his shoulders and hunkered down over his sketch pad. He began scribbling again, the shapes growing even more distorted and lopsided. 

Bucky sucked in his breath. “Well… you have to eat.”

“I’m fine.” Steve’s fingers tightened on the stub of pencil, gripping it savagely and pressing it hard against the surface of the paper. The sketch grew darker, the lines thicker and uglier. It was starting to become something Steve didn’t recognize, something he never would have created on his own. Something dark and frightening and lonely.

“Yeah, but…” There was something in Bucky’s voice. An edge Steve couldn’t identify by name, but something different than he’d heard before. Something that made him hunch his shoulders further and scribble harder at his increasingly disturbing sketch. And still, he remained silent.

“Would you…” Bucky sighed. “Would you at least look at me?”

Steve exhaled heavily and clenched his hands. The edge of his sketch pad bent in his left hand, and the pencil dug painfully into the fingertips of his right. But finally, he did look up.

And so Bucky promptly looked down at the floor instead. “I… missed you… you know,” he said quietly. “When you didn’t come to dinner.”

Steve looked back down at his sketch, preferring its lurching and unsettling contours to what was happening in front of him. And yet he couldn’t stay silent. “You wouldn’t have wanted me there.”

“That’s…” He heard Bucky shift around in the doorway, but he didn’t come any closer. “That’s not true.”

“You said it wasn’t normal.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the edges of his sketch pad tighter. “You made it pretty clear.”

“I’m an idiot,” Bucky said breathlessly. “What do you want?”

The prickly heat sprang up behind Steve’s eyelids again, and he felt his chest starting to tighten. “I want things to go back to the way they were before. That’s all. I just want…”

“Stevie…” Bucky was in front of him suddenly, and he knelt down and nudged the sketch pad out of Steve’s hands and looked up at him with an expression Steve couldn’t quite make out. 

Steve let the pad fall and didn’t try to stop Bucky from doing whatever it was that he was about to do. “Buck…?”

Bucky’s hand went to the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him forward until their foreheads were touching. “I missed you, Stevie.” He licked his lips. “It’s not… it’s not the same without you.”

“It hasn’t been the same for me either.” Steve felt his eyes well up again and hated himself for it. How could he be able to hold himself together for everything else - to keep from crying when he’d gotten his nose broken for the umpteenth time or had his ribs kicked in by three big guys or gotten the brush-off from girl after girl after girl - and yet when it came to Bucky, he turned into some kind of weeping willow?

“I just want it to go back to how it used to be,” he whispered as the tears threatened to spill over. “That’s the only normal I want.”

“Normal, how?” A strange look flickered across Bucky’s eyes. “Normal, as in before the fire escape normal?” He licked his lips again. “I don’t… I don’t want that.”

“What?” Steve looked up, confused and afraid and at the end of his emotional tether. “I didn’t say I wanted to go back to before that, Buck.” He felt the tears slide down his face and rubbed them away in frustration. “I don’t think it’s even possible to go back from something like that, and if it were, I wouldn’t want to anyway.” He swallowed. “But if that isn’t what you meant, then…”

Then what had made Bucky blurt out that what they were doing wasn’t normal? What had made him go looking for a new girl to spend his time with when he and Steve had never been short of things to do with their time together? And why had they spent the past few days so miserable?

As if reading his mind, Bucky whispered, “I already told you, I’m an idiot. And I was... “ He chewed on his lip. “I was scared. I didn’t know what it meant. But I… I don’t want…” His hand tightened at the back of Steve’s neck. “I don’t like it when you’re not around.”

Something let go in Steve’s heart then. The hellscape in his mind - the one he’d been sketching on that pad - blew away like cigarette smoke in a strong wind, and all that was left was Bucky.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” he managed to choke out as he reached up with both hands to touch Bucky’s face. “I’m still here. And I missed you too.”

“Yeah, but…” Bucky sighed and shook his head. And then he pushed up on his heels and threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair and kissed him. And Steve, surprised and grateful and overwhelmed, flung his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him back. It was a long kiss, a deep one, and the both of them were out of breath by the time their lips parted. But when they did, Steve’s tears were gone.

“So,” he said shakily, a smile on his face. “We’ve got the rest of the evening.” He leaned back on the bed, pulling Bucky with him. He tugged at Bucky’s unbuttoned coat, dimly realizing that he must have gotten there in a hurry. And as Bucky shrugged out of the coat with Steve’s help, Steve stretched up for another kiss.

Bucky’s lips met his softly at first and then with urgency. “I missed you.” He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I missed you, and I was afraid that I had…” He swallowed loudly. “That I had fucked it up. For good.”

“No,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips. “It’s all right now.” He reached up and clutched Bucky’s back. “I missed you too, Buck, and I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

“So what do we do?” Bucky trailed a line of kisses down Steve’s forehead, over his nose and his lips, and then began planting little, nibbling kisses on his neck that made Steve arch his neck upwards and gasp. 

Bucky looked up at him and smiled. “Oh, you liked that, did you?”

Steve shivered, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh God yes.” He reached up and pulled Bucky back down to him. “Do that again.”

Bucky did exactly that, and Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s back, causing him to shiver with pleasure. “You didn’t answer my first question though,” Bucky said between kisses. “What do we do now?’

“We have the place to ourselves for the whole night. My ma won’t be back till morning,” Steve whispered, and he felt a thrill of excitement run through him at the thought of it. “If we close the shades, we can do anything we want.” He kissed Bucky along the side of his neck, the way Bucky had done for him just a moment ago, and felt Bucky tense and gasp as he did. “We could get undressed and just never put our clothes back on till tomorrow morning.”

Bucky pulled away panting and looked at Steve for a long moment. “I want that.” His voice trembled with what sounded like a heady mixture of excitement and nerves. “I really want that.”

Steve was suddenly giddy at the prospect of so huge a step forward. They’d never done anything like what he was suggesting; they’d never had the time or the freedom or the courage to even consider it. But now, with an empty house and so huge an obstacle just overcome, what was going to hold them back?

“I’ll call my ma when she gets home from the sugar factory.” Bucky pulled himself away from their embrace and went to the pull the shades down. “And tell her I’m staying the night here.”

“Good.” Steve smiled the wobbliest, most nervous smile he’d ever smiled. They were really going to do this, weren’t they? “We can stay in all night. We’ll have dinner at some point, and we can enjoy ourselves all night.”

Bucky toed his shoes off and then climbed back into the bed and into Steve’s waiting arms. “And what do we do after that? Then what happens?”

“Then?” Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest as he wrapped his arms around Bucky and brought his lips to Bucky’s ear. “Then we can get each other off till we’re so exhausted, we pass out. And we can sleep right here in my bed until morning.”

“Jesus, Stevie.” A puff of laughter escaped Bucky’s lips. He pulled back slightly and looked at Steve with fond exasperation. “I meant going forward.”

“Oh.” Steve deflated, but recovered with a sheepish smile. “Well, I think what I said just about covers it, only on a grander scale.”

And when he took a moment to think about it, he was being serious. All joking and playful banter aside, when he really thought about what he wanted for himself and Bucky going forward, that was it. To be together, live in an apartment together, spend time together the way a guy and a girl would if they got together. And, he thought somewhat daringly, why shouldn’t they? 

“What about you?” He reached up and cupped a hand gently around the back of Bucky’s neck, urging Bucky’s head down toward his own. “What do you want, going forward?”

“I want you,” Bucky murmured around Steve’s lips. “I’ll figure out the rest as I go.”

“I want you too, Buck.” Steve brought his lips to Bucky’s and gasped his few words out in between breathless kisses. “I’ve been wanting you more and more every time we do this.”

He trailed his fingertips down the back of Bucky’s neck, down his spine, down to the waistband of his pants where he’d tucked in his shirt, and there he started searching. Worming his fingers under Bucky’s waistband, trying to find the hem of his shirt. And when he found it, pulling it out and up and aside so he could slide his hand up under both the shirt and undershirt. 

His hand against Bucky’s bare skin excited him in a way he didn’t have words for. And it primed his mind for the excitement he hoped was going to follow.

Bucky sighed against him. “We haven’t done this before. Not like this.” 

“I know.” Steve couldn’t keep the eager, nervous smile off his face. “That’s what’s so great about it.”

He reached up with his left hand - his right was still pressed against Bucky’s back beneath his shirt - and began to tug Bucky’s suspenders down off his shoulders. After all, he thought with a boldness that surprised as well as aroused him, if he was ever going to get Bucky undressed, he needed to start somewhere.

“I want you,” he said breathlessly as he stretched up to bring his lips to Bucky’s throat. “I want this.”

Bucky gasped as Steve nibbled at his throat. “Me too.” He shrugged the rest of the way out of his suspenders and then looked down at Steve with a hopeful sort of smile. “One good turn,” he said, and then began to undo the buttons of Steve’s shirt with trembling hands.

Steve groaned in anticipation, feeling himself stiffen in his pants as he imagined peeling Bucky’s clothes off and shedding his own, and excited beyond belief at the idea of Bucky taking as active a hand in things as he had himself. 

And oh, how he wanted those clothes to disappear so he could feel the length of Bucky’s body pressed against his own…

He couldn’t wait.

“One good turn,” he replied, nipping Bucky’s earlobe gently with his teeth as he tugged at Bucky’s shirt. He dragged it up, wanting to get it off of Bucky so badly that he forgot in the heat of the moment about the buttons. He laughed breathlessly as he fumbled with the buttons, so lightheaded and excited at the prospect of what they were about to do that he might as well have been drunk. “God, I can’t believe this is real…”

He tossed the shirt aside, peeled off Bucky’s undershirt, and tossed that aside as well, and then Bucky was naked to the waist. And on top of him. God, he’d go off like a cannon if he thought about it for too long… 

Bucky smiled and resumed undoing the buttons of Steve’s shirt. Then he tugged Steve into a sitting position, pushed his suspenders aside, helped him out of his shirt and undershirt, and flung both off to the side somewhere. 

“Feel real enough yet?” He put warm, shaking hands on Steve’s chest and gently pushed him back down onto the mattress, then spent a long moment just gazing at him with a sappy smile on his face. “How can we make it feel more real?”

“It feels real to me.” Steve smiled up at Bucky. “It just feels too good to be true.” He ran his hands over Bucky’s upper body, feeling Bucky’s lean but strong muscles under his touch and wanting to feel more. Wanting to pull Bucky’s trousers down, to pull them off, to skin down Bucky’s underwear and toss everything off to the side of the room. To see and feel and experience every inch of his friend’s naked body.

God, he was so hard it was beginning to hurt.

“I want it to be true.” He ran his hands over as much of Bucky’s bare skin as he could reach. Let his hands creep down to Bucky’s waistband, and even to dart underneath it. “I want…” He lunged up to kiss Bucky. “God, Bucky, I want you.”

As he threw himself into the kiss, he was conscious of arching his hips up off the bed in a rhythmic motion. He wanted desperately to grind himself against Bucky, but his pants really needed to come off. 

“These pants really need to come off.”

Dear Lord, he’d said it out loud.

Bucky laughed, and it seemed to bleed off some of his nerves. “You’re always so ready to go. You’re going to be waking me up at three in the morning to deliver the goods one day.”

“Well, I sure hope so.” Steve laughed too, a bit breathlessly. “If it means we’ll still be doing this after a long time.”

“Until we’re old and grey and can’t get it up anymore?” Bucky grinned, then leaned down and laid a trail of soft kisses from Steve’s neck to his chest and stomach and then down and further down, until his mouth was around the stiffness in Steve’s pants. “You’re right. You are wearing too much.”

“So are you,” Steve gasped as he arched his body upward against Bucky’s exploring mouth. And when Bucky’s lips found their way to the bulge in his pants, he nearly lost control.

“Slow down,” Bucky whispered. “It’s still early.” He undid the button on Steve’s pants, then gripped both the pants and undershorts by the waistband and slowly worked them down over Steve’s hips, then backed off the bed to pull them down the rest of the way before tossing them aside.

Steve felt himself shivering with nervous excitement. It had been a long time since he’d been completely naked in front of Bucky, and this was the first time he’d ever been naked in front of him for what they were about to do. He hoped Bucky liked what he saw enough to keep going. 

But Bucky had that dopey smile on his face again. “Wow, Stevie. There you are.” A breathless puff of laughter escaped his lips. “So, you going to take mine off or should I do it myself?”

“You do it,” Steve said huskily, with a kind of daring he hadn’t known he had. “I want to watch you do it.”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows. “You going to throw money at me?” 

“Well, I don’t have any folding money.” Steve smiled and propped himself up on his elbows, his erection still rock-solid and flat against his stomach. He wanted to see Bucky’s spring free of his pants. “Just coins. So if I threw money at you, it would probably hurt.”

A snort of laughter, and then Bucky looked at Steve for a long moment and licked his lips. Took a deep breath, unbuttoned his fly, skinned his pants and undershorts down, and kicked them away. 

“Well, buddy,” he said softly. “Here I am.”

Steve didn’t even bother to try to hide his stare. It was one thing to touch Bucky, he realized, and another to see him. Without his clothes on, the leanness of Bucky’s body made his substantial erection look even bigger. How in the hell had he managed to get so much of it into his mouth?

“Wow.” Steve sat up and wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him down on top of him. And the feeling of Bucky’s bare skin against his own was enough to make his cock jump and twitch with need.

Bucky grabbed the chenille blanket and dragged it over the top of them. “Okay…” His voice shook with a combination of nerves and tremulous anticipation. “Here we are.” He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Right here.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, hardly believing it himself. They were naked in bed with one another for the first time ever, the whole place to themselves for the whole night, about to explore each other’s bodies and bring each other off in a way they’d never done before. He was quivering with need and excitement and nerves, and he pressed himself even closer to Bucky to quell the trembling. “Here we are.”

In pressing himself against Bucky, though, he felt his cock touch the bare flesh of Bucky’s upper thigh, and he groaned with pleasure at this first contact. Groaned, and half-closed his eyes, and reached up with a shaking hand to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair. And he couldn’t help but start to grind his hips against the resistance of Bucky’s taut muscles.

“Feels good,” he whispered as he brought his lips to the hollow at the base of Bucky’s throat. “Feels so good…”

Bucky gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as Steve’s teeth grazed the soft flesh of his throat. He moved his hips in a slow rhythm, his cock sliding against Steve’s stomach, and that encouraged Steve to keep nibbling, until Bucky was panting and nearly pulling Steve’s hair with desire.

“You like that?” Steve smiled and did it again, slightly harder. And as he felt the incredible sensation of Bucky’s cock pressing against his stomach, sliding up and down, he had an idea that almost made him come right then and there.

“Hold on,” he breathed, and shifted up. He couldn’t quite reach Bucky’s throat from this position, but now he could feel the entire length of Bucky’s throbbing hardness pressed against his own. And with just the slightest shifting of his hips, he could slide his cock against Bucky’s in a way that felt so good, so incredibly good that it practically made him delirious.

“Stevie…” Bucky moaned, and reached down to wrap his hand around Steve’s cock. His thumb rubbed over the head and came away slick with fluid, which he rubbed up and down the length of Steve’s shaft, and then his own, until they were both wet with it. They slid together more easily now, and with every movement of their cocks against each other, more slipperiness was added to the friction. 

Bucky was panting now, moving his hips in a steady, delicious rhythm, and occasionally gasping Steve’s name. He managed to kiss Steve once or twice, even managed to find Steve’s hand and entwine their fingers, but otherwise kept rocking against him and pulling the both of them closer and closer to the edge. 

And Steve was rapidly approaching that edge.

“Jesus, Buck.” He gasped it out as he rocked his hips against Bucky’s movement, the slickness of their juices lubricating them so he could feel every vein in Bucky’s cock as it slid against his own. He clenched his fingers around Bucky’s as he sped up his grinding motion, his breath coming in short gasps, and brought his lips to Bucky’s ear. “Jesus, you feel so good…!”

And then, suddenly, he felt the end approaching. He ground his cock against Bucky’s, feeling himself tense and throb and finally explode, feeling as though the inside of his cock was melting, white-hot, and it burst out of him in spurts, again and again and again and it felt so incredible that he never wanted it to stop.

Bucky laughed in breathless astonishment, but he didn’t stop moving. He ground his hips against Steve’s cock harder, faster, his own cock wet with Steve’s jism. He gripped Steve’s hand tightly, his other fingers tangling in Steve’s hair, and he looked down at him with wide, desperate eyes.

“Stevie, I’m…” He barely gasped the words out. “I’m…”

And that was it. Bucky came with a sudden cry, one burst and then another and another, until he was empty and shaking and spent, and he collapsed nervelessly against Steve and lay there panting and exhausted.

“Love you…” he managed breathlessly and brought one hand against Steve’s cheek. “You know that?” He didn’t pick up his head. “I love you, Stevie.”

Steve felt his heart, which had been thumping wildly, suddenly give a huge leap in his chest. And he wrapped his arms around Bucky and squeezed tight, the exhausted smile on his face growing wider as he focused on the words Bucky had finally said. “I love you too, Buck.”

Bucky smiled an exhausted, happy smile, shifted off Steve and onto the mattress, then gathered Steve into his arms. For a long moment, the two of them lay there, breathing against each other silently.

Finally Bucky said, “We’re a mess, Stevie.” His hand brushed against each of their stomachs. “A sticky mess.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, then shifted slightly so he could feel the delicious sensation of their jism-slicked bodies sliding against one another. It was still warm - thick and slippery - and there was a whole lot of it. 

They’d both made that wonderful mess all over each other, and Steve didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, it was enough to make his cock stir slightly. Not enough to get him ready to go all over again quite so soon, but enough to get him excited for the rest of the night.

“But I don’t want to get up just yet,” Steve went on, snuggling close to Bucky again and loving the way it felt. “Do you?”

“No,” Bucky murmured, that same exhausted smile lingering on his face. “No, I could fall asleep like this.”

“Sleep?” Steve opened his eyes all the way, dismayed. “No way you’re going to sleep yet. Not when we’ve got the whole night to keep doing this.” He paused, then smiled and whispered into Bucky’s ear. “I want to make you come until you can’t get it up again.”

Bucky snorted and hugged Steve tighter. “You’re something else. Also, I’m hungry.”

Eventually, they did get out of bed to have dinner. And though Steve couldn’t convince Bucky to stay naked for dinner, he did manage to get him to leave everything but his undershorts off. After dinner, of course, he dragged Bucky right back to bed and they spent the rest of the night stroking, sucking, and rubbing each other to climax and after climax. Even after they’d drifted off to sleep, it didn’t stop - Steve woke up shortly after midnight hard as a rock, managed to wake Bucky up by jerking him hard, and they managed to bring each other off one last time before falling asleep for good.

And the following day in school, every reprimand Steve got for being bleary-eyed and too tired to concentrate was absolutely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE THE FIRST  
> Every chapter of this story thus far has been beta read by the incredible FireBirdScratches, who leaves comments like:
> 
> "I love how Steve is this romantic, poetic, artsy emo kid. And yet, at the same time is brave and tough as nails, and uncompromisingly good and stalwart."
> 
> Which is how I will forever view smol!Steve. These chapters would not be in the shape they're in without FireBirdScratches' compelling, emotional, always heartfelt and often very funny commentary. 
> 
> NOTE THE SECOND  
> This story has taken on a life of its own. It was originally intended to be vintage Stucky smut (which is fantastic anyway), but has grown into vintage Stucky smut with a generous helping of emotional content and plot progression. There is definitely more to come.
> 
> NOTE THE THIRD  
> As always, comments, questions, feedback, and just popping in to chat are warmly welcomed, encouraged, and hoped for. Comments are the bread of life.


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